George burst through the side door of the church, dragging James behind him. He shouldered his way into the sacristy, pushing James ahead of him with both hands, and slammed the door shut, sagging his weight against it.
James righted himself with a scowl. “George, what on earth—”
“I can’t do this,” he panted, one hand over his chest. “I can’t. Oh god—oh—I can’t breathe—”
“Whoa…easy,” James said, stepping forward to brace George by the elbow.
“James, I can’t breathe,” George gasped in a panic.
“Loosen your cravat,” James soothed, holding tight to his brother’s arm.
Both hands went to George’s neck as he clawed at the cloth strangling him like a noose, desperate to untie the knot.
“Why don’t you sit down.” James eased his brother back towards a chair.
“I can’t possibly sit at a time like this,” George cried. Tugging away from James, he strode across the room, spinning when he reached the narrow window. “I can’t do this,” he repeated.
“Alright, so we cancel the wedding. Or we postpone. Whatever you need—”
“Not the wedding—this!” He gestured wildly around the room. “All of this! I can’t be this person anymore. I cannot do this. It’s killing me, James.”
“What are you talking about?”
George made a sound somewhere between a choke and a shriek. “I’m talking about you! I’m talking about me! I’m talking about bloody all of it!”
James felt his stomach lurch. “Me? What the hell do I have to do with it?”
“You are the very middle of it!” George cried. “James, you are the worst second son to have ever lived! The position is utterly wasted on you.” He strode forward, eyes wide. “Do you know how unfair it is for me to have to watch you squander your chance to be a useless spare to the heir? It’s infuriating. This envy, it eats at me. It burrows inside me and makes me hate you.”
“George—”
“I should have been the second son,” George snarled, jabbing at his chest with his thumb. “Not you. Me! I would do it so much better than you!”
“Goddamn it, George—”
“And you should have been born the duke.”
A sharp silence fell between the brothers. George stood before James in his wedding clothes, chest heaving. Taking a breath, James gave his waistcoat an irritated tug. “Unfortunately for both of us, those are not the cards we were dealt.”
George huffed, flapping his arms. “Well, who says we have to keep playing cards then?”
“What?”
George took a step closer. “James, you and I are two of the most powerful men in England. Why do we let the rest of the rabble make us play a game we both loathe so very much? What if I don’t want to play cards anymore? What if I want to play hazard or chess or-or backgammon!”
“Speak English, George,” James growled.
“I want you to trade lives with me!”
James just blinked. “Trade lives? What…like I start calling myself George and you will go by James, and we’ll just hope that by some miracle no one notices? Am I expected to waltz out there and marry Piety?”
“No,” George said with a laugh. “That would be ridiculous. You’re in love with Rosalie—”
“Oh yes, that’s what is ridiculous about it,” James muttered.
“But in theory the idea should work—”
“Look around you,” James barked. “That’s not how any of this works! You are the duke. I am your brother. That is the way it is.”
“If a king can abdicate, why can’t a duke?” George challenged.
James fell silent, utterly at a loss for words. George had often complained before, but he’d never taken his dissatisfaction so far. James raised a wary brow. “You would disclaim your title?”
“Disclaim!” He cried with a snap of his fingers. “See, you even know the proper word for it.”
“George, this is serious. Do you really want to disclaim your title?”
“Of course, I want to disclaim it,” he replied with an exasperated laugh. “I should have done it years ago. I’m wasted as a duke, and everyone knows it.”
Before James could respond, a sharp fist rapped on the door.
“In a minute,” James barked.
The knob rattled as someone tried to force their way in. “James, you let me in this instant!”
It was their mother.
“Don’t let her in,” George whispered. “I’m not ready. She’ll make me change my mind.”
“Well, if you can be talked out of this decision so easily, then perhaps it’s not the right decision—”
“It is the right decision!” George cried. “You know it too.”
The door swung open, nearly hitting James in the shoulder. He spun around as their mother pressed her way in, Burke and Rosalie on her heels. The archbishop stood in the doorway, sheepishly holding a key.
“Is someone going to tell me what is going on? George, get back out there at once,” their mother demanded. “The Queen is waiting!”
But George took one look at Rosalie, then puffed out his chest. “Mother, I have something very important to tell you. All of you.” He paused for dramatic effect. “I intend to disclaim my title in favor of James. We’re going to switch our roles. He will be the first son, and I the second.”
Their mother spluttered. “You—what?”
But James couldn’t think about her. He had eyes only for Burke and Rosalie. He held their gaze, glancing between them, desperate to glean their thoughts with a look. They were both shocked.
“George, you speak nonsense,” their mother cried. “You are the duke. You were born to be the duke.”
“But I don’t want to be the duke,” he replied. “It makes me miserable; it always has. Am I to have no say in my own life?”
“This is madness! You’re overtired. We will delay this wedding while you rest and—”
“We will cancel this wedding because I do not wish to marry Piety Nash!”
“George…” Burke’s voice cut through their bickering. All eyes turned to him. “Just help us understand what brought you to this pass.”
George shrugged. “I suppose I’ve always resented my lot in life and wished mine and James’ roles were reversed. He makes a perfect duke. I have never tried to compete with him because…well…I can’t. And I suppose I tend to not try at all, rather than risk trying only to prove myself a failure.”
James didn’t miss the way George’s eye kept darting to Rosalie as he delivered that speech.
“But something must have changed,” their mother pressed. “What happened that you are now so willing to abandon your birthright, your family?”
“There will be no abandoning my family,” George murmured. “I am still a Corbin. If there is to be abandonment, it will come from you. As to how or why I now find myself at this pass, the answer is simple. It was all down to her.” He pointed his finger, and the group collectively followed the line with their eyes, landing on Rosalie.
Her eyes went wide, her mouth opening in surprise.
“What?” James muttered, feeling his jealousy and protective instincts rise.
“What?” shrieked the duchess, ready to drag Rosalie by the curls.
“WHAT?”
The group spun around, all eyes on the doorway as Piety Nash pushed her way in.
